My neighbor, Mike, and I drove down from Leadville together, catching up along the way. He's entered Leadman again for the third year in a row-- I believe it's fair to say that he's hooked. I worried about potentially gnarly driving conditions, but our drive down was actually quite nice. An inch or so of fluffy snow had fallen overnight, but I don't think we encountered a single flake as we descended 3,000 ft down the Arkansas valley to Salida. We drove past a large herd of elk grazing on the valley floor. The sage brush was laced with fresh snow, which the rising sun illuminated as it shone through gaps in the clouds that hung on the shoulders of the nearby mountains. Further south, however, the clouds loomed darker and promised more snow to come.
As we milled around the starting area, we bumped into a bunch of other Leadville folks who were also racing that day. We all clustered together at the starting line, smiling, chatting, trying to stay warm, and second-guessing how many layers of clothing we were wearing. There was no snow on the ground at the start, but the steady climb ahead of us seemed likely to change that.
The start of the Salida marathon is an understated event. I never hear any gun or countdown or announcement. We just suddenly take off as a pack. I'm often caught off guard and surprised to find myself running. It's a great laid back way to kick off another season of racing.
My goal for this race-- and what has become my default goal for all races-- is to start conservatively and try to negative split the race. Focus on a maintaining a steady, slow intake of calories. Finish strong. My race last year did not go so well. I really struggled in the second half of the race, slowing way, way down-- especially considering that the second 13 miles of the race are mostly downhill.
This year, I kept things very relaxed for the first 8 or so miles. It was so enjoyable to be able to run on nice, dry single track for a change-- especially after months of training almost exclusively on snowy dirt roads. The only hitch during these early miles was my awkward fumbling around with a ziploc bag full of energy drink powder at the first aid station. I ended up tearing it open and spilling about a quarter of it on the ground. Frustrating. It's funny how little things like that can have such a negative effect on your mental state. It knocks you out of any rhythm. Eventually I shook it off and regained my composure. It's healthy to laugh at yourself-- especially during the early miles of a race.
|A few miles into the race...|
The next section is the biggest sustained climb of the race, up a dirt road to the halfway point. Since I ran the first section relatively easy, I made up some places on this climb. I felt good, ran the entire way, and passed 20 or so folks on the way up. Slow and steady. The snow started falling as we climbed and it was beginning to accumulate. I didn't find the snow to be a problem, in fact I felt it added to the dramatic atmosphere of the race. Everything felt more... burly. I seemed to have chosen the perfect amount of clothing for the conditions, and I never had to make any major adjustments during the race-- just taking on and off my hat and rolling my sleeves up or down as the conditions warranted. You can't ask for more than that.
I was excited to see that I hit the halfway mark about two minutes faster than I did last year. That surprised me a bit, because I was perfectly willing to run the first half of the race slower, focusing on the second half of instead. I felt good, though, and I didn't think I had pushed too hard. However, I knew all that mattered was the second half and my two minutes meant nothing if I blew up.
|One of my sub-goals for the race was to run the hill at mile 21. I succeeded-- just barely.|
The second half of the race is mostly downhill, but there are some rollers and one short, but steep climb out of a "sand trap" around mile 21. The trail can definitely get a bit technical at times and it is certainly slower than you might expect, twisting tightly and dropping sharply in spots. I've come to recognize that technical downhills are not exactly my forte, but I do enjoy them.
In contrast to last year, I noticed that I was still passing runners in these later sections of the race. Often on the uphills. I was determined to run the entire course-- never dropping into hiking mode. I find the small uphills provide a good test of my energy level. I gain confidence that my nutrition is where it's supposed to be if I can still maintain a running cadence uphill late in a race. I didn't push too hard on the downhills, trying to save my quads a bit. At this point in the year, I've done very little downhill running. And what little I have done has been a bit restrained due to the potential of slipping on ice. I arrived at the aid station at mile 20 feeling good. Glancing at my watch, I knew I had run the previous section much faster than last year. A PR seemed likely now and the thought gave me a boost of energy. I headed out again and mentally prepared myself for the energy-sapping climb at mile 21. Gritting my teeth, I was able to run every step of it. That was definitely a first for me and worthy of a gasping, panting, quiet "F*ck, yeah!" to myself at the top.
As I left the final aid station, I did some quick calculations in my head. It looked like I might be able to finish under 5 hours! I actually groaned to myself because beating a nice, round-numbered time meant that I had to push a bit harder during these final miles rather than just coasting to the finish. Curse you, arbitrary time goals!
I ended up running the last mile of the race almost as fast as I ran the same mile earlier in the race and finished in 4:57:31. Solid! A 37-minute PR for the course! I was psyched.
|A comparison of my splits from last year to this year. Shaded rows are aid stations.|
So... how in the hell did I run 37 minutes faster this year than last year? I doubt it was due to my training, which was almost exactly the same in terms of total mileage. In fact, it was even a bit less this year-- though I did run two longer runs than I had in '12. Still, that can't possibly account for a 37 minute improvement. After much contemplation, here's how I think my improvement roughly broke down:
- (22 minutes) Improved in-race nutrition. 300 calories/hour. No excuses.
- (10 minutes) Hoka Stinson Evos vs. New Balance MT110s.
- (3 minutes) Starting the race well-rested.
- (3 minutes) More evenly distributed training miles.
- (3 minutes) Stronger hips. No knee pain during the race.
- (2 minutes) Cooler temperatures on race day.
- (-3 minutes) Fiddling with baggies of energy drink powder at every aid station.
- (-3 minutes) Carrying/wearing more gear due to weather.
That's just a guess, but it's my best guess. Basically, in retrospect, I blew up last year, barely surviving the race. '12 was more an example of how not to run the race. I know I drone on and on about the importance of in-race nutrition, but I truly think that if it's your weak link, you can see huge performance improvements simply by fixing it-- even if your raw fitness level remains the same. Consuming a steady stream of carbohydrates during a race (50-60 grams per hour) is huge. Huge! This was the concoction I was drinking:
- 2 scoops of pure maltodextrin (complex sugars) (200 calories)
- 1 scoop of lemon-lime Gatorade (simple sugars, some electrolytes, flavor) (80 calories)
- 1/4 scoop of soy protein (protein) (~30 calories)
- ~20 oz of water
One bottle an hour gives you basically everything you need. Very simple. No chewing required. (And it's very easy to adjust the ingredients up or down to reach the ideal 2 calories per pound per hour rate of consumption.) After trying a variety of products over the years (including "real" food) this is the only fueling strategy that I've been able to maintain consistently for 28+ hours. The taste is fairly subtle-- like diluted Gatorade. Try it. If you've struggled with in-race nutrition in the past, it's like cheating.
I hesitate to give my shoes as much weight as I did in my calculations, but I think I wasn't nearly ready to run 26 miles in my MT110s last year. I had run exclusively in MT101s in '10 and '11 so I didn't give it much thought at the time, but the MT110 is a very different beast than its predecessor. It's much more minimal and I think I paid the price on the downhills. My running form is just not that good-- especially on the downhills. This year I went to the opposite end of the spectrum with my Hoka Stinson Evos. The last time I ran in them was during the 100 in August. My original plan was to run in my Bondi Bs, but the snow made me jump up to a model with a bit more tread. I think they really saved my quads on the downhills, even if the mud stuck to them in a few spots. I still have mixed feelings about Hokas, but I can't argue with the fact that I've had some good results while wearing them. Currently, I only use them for long runs; running all my shorter training runs in more minimalist footwear.
The Salida marathon will always be too early in the season for me to be truly prepared for it. But in contrast to last year, I think I'll emerge from it stronger. While my finishing time was certainly modest, it's more inline with my past race results. (Being in the top 30%-39% of finishers is really good for me, 40%-49% is solid, and 50%+ is mediocre. This year in Salida I came in around 56% vs. 72% last year...) I think I got a really good workout and thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience. It was a lot of fun and a nice confidence boost in the direction my training is heading this year.
Only 3.5 weeks until my next challenge: 42 miles and 11,000 ft of vertical in the Grand Canyon!